It’s not you
it’s the screwy everyday bad luck,
the doorway to delirium, the muddy reality,
narcos, inflation, the one-sided solution,
the gods extinguished, the feeble fantasy,
Berlin, Fidel, the Pope, Gorbachev and Allah.
It’s not you, my love…

It’s not you,
it’s these shitty days that sometime will pass,
it’s Lennon and Guevara who don’t know how to come back,
Latinos divided without America;
it’s me, who still can’t be cured from wanting you,
it’s passports and hostilities.
It’s not about you, my love…

It’s not you,
it’s so much democracy to not believe in,
it’s a song by Silvio and the crisis of faith,
it’s the wisdom to unlearn,
it’s America without a guide, bargaining with Clinton,
it’s a love for Cuba,
it’s defending her light,
it’s like when you’re not, when you’re not here.
It’s not you, my love…

It’s not you,
you’re not what was hard for me to dream up tonight,
it’s the lack of Martians, it’s my space landing;
it’s that I’m missing a story in this capital:
even romance turns bitter and anarchy grows;
it’s the string that rusts in this vein of thought,
it’s this stillborn muse, it’s that I don’t even know what to sing,
it’s not you, my love…
it’s not you…
it’s everyone else!